


It Only Takes a Moment

by SouthernWriter



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:08:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26561902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernWriter/pseuds/SouthernWriter
Summary: If Grissom had only taken a moment to listen, things would have turned out much differently.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	It Only Takes a Moment

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever one-shot, and in a completely different fandom than my other story. Go figure. First time writing for this fandom, so characterization may be OC. I tried my best. Cross posted at FFN under my old penname.

Nick glanced at his watch. He still had 30 minutes before he had to be at work, barring an early call-in. He’d spent the last two weeks in Reno as the star witness in a federal case, leaving his team short-handed. From what he’d been hearing from Warrick, Grissom had been less than easy to work with. So Nick decided to stop by his favorite coffee shop to get his teammates a little pick-me-up to get them through the night.

With the to-go carrier in hand, Nick headed out the door toward his car. A sudden scream behind him had him whirling around, and the cups hit the ground…

* * *

“So good of you to join us,” Gil said coolly as Nick trudged on to the crime scene.

“Grissom…”

“I don’t want to hear it, Nick,” the senior CSI growled. “We were called out an hour and a half ago.”

“I know, but…”

“Save it; I’m not interested in your excuses right now,” Grissom interrupted. “But since you’re here now, you can help process the stairwell. Crime scene is on the third floor, and the elevator is out of service.”

“But Grissom,” Nick tried again to protest, but his boss cut him off once more.

“You can either get to work, or you can leave and I’ll write you up for insubordination.”

“Yes, sir,” Nick said, this time much subdued. He turned and slowly made his way to the stairwell.

“Hmph,” Grissom grunted and turned back to what he’d been doing before Nick’s arrival distracted him.

* * *

16 Hours Later…

“Gil,” Catherine said. “Where’s Nicky? Did you finally pull your head out of your ass and let that boy go home?”

“What is it with all of you mollycoddling Nick today,” Grissom grumped. “I had to warn Warrick and Sara from doing Nick’s assignment for him.”

“That’s because _they_ bothered to ask Nick why he was running so late,” Catherine said. “Something I don’t think you bothered to do.”

“He showed up and hour and a half late, Catherine,” Gil said. “The way he was moving, if I had smelled any alcohol on him I’d have suspected he was drinking.”

“Since Nick is always showing up drunk.” Catherine’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. Then her voice dropped to a level of quiet that indicated she was well past angry and well on her way to pissed. “No, Nicky wasn’t drunk. I’ll tell you what you refused to let Nick tell you earlier. Nick was stuck by a car saving the life of a toddler. He had stopped to get coffee for the team, when little Henry got away from his mother. His mother had her hands full juggling the groceries and baby Ellie. Henry made a break for it, and ended up right in the path of an oncoming car. But Nick got to him first. He saved Henry, but couldn’t get completely out of the way of the car. Nick ended up with bone-bruised hip, a sprained knee, three severely bruised ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a surprisingly mild concussion. He’s lucky they were in a parking lot and the car was going relatively slowly.”

Grissom felt his stomach drop as the reality of his mistake started to set in. Catherine, however, wasn’t done yet.

“The uniform called to the scene recognized Nick. He was there when your page came through, and he had to help the EMT talk Nick into going to the hospital to get checked out. Once there, Nick stuck around just long enough to be examined, then he checked himself out AMA.”

“Why did he call, let me know what happened,” Grissom asked.

“Did you miss where I said he had a concussion,” Cath said. “He wasn’t exactly thinking clearly, and his cell phone got smashed in the accident.” She huffed humorless laugh. “He had to get a cab to bring him to the crime scene. The only reason his car got to the office is because Officer Velasquez and his partner arranged to have it dropped off. Now, you want to tell me where Nick is?”

“I sent him back to the crime scene,” Grissom confessed. Then, as if knowing that wasn’t enough of an explanation, he added, “Crime scene photos revealed some potential evidence along the floorboards we evidently missed.”

“And because you were still in a pissy mood, you sent Nick to collect it. And since Nick couldn’t protest without getting written up for insubordination, he went back. Despite the bad ribs, hip, and knee.” She gave Gil a scathing look.

Grissom held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “I’ll go get him,” he told her. “ _And_ see he gets home.”

“Gil, just be careful,” Catherine warned him. “Nick’s wounded, and I don’t just mean physically. You know how much he craves your approval. Your behavior today delivered a wound I’m not sure will be easily repaired. You could really screw him up if you don’t handle this correctly.”

“I promise, I will take care of him,” Grissom vowed, and he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

* * *

When Grissom arrived at the crime scene, he was alarmed to find an ambulance there. He didn’t get a chance to see who was inside before it took off, sirens wailing. Gil looked around to see a uniformed police officer standing, watching the ambulance driving away. Grissom approached the man.

“What happened here,” he asked. “Where’s Nick?” He was taken aback by the venomous look the officer shot his way. “Is there something wrong, Officer…?”

“Velasquez. Officer Velasquez, and that depends on your idea of wrong,” the uniformed officer replied.

With guilt weighing heavy on him, Grissom wasn’t in the mood for riddles. “Just tell me what happened here.”

“Fine,” Velasquez said. “When CSI Stokes called in looking for a uniform to cover him during his trip to the crime scene, I volunteered. I had been at the scene of his accident the other day, and I was curious why he was here rather than at home like he should have been. You see, Nick left permission for us to collect a copy of his medical report and talk to his attending in case we needed it for our report, so I knew exactly what kind of injuries he’s carrying. I decided I’d help watch his back at the crime scene, and then I’d guarantee he went home and took the pain relievers and muscle relaxants I’m sure the doctor prescribed.” His glower made it clear he felt that was where Nick should have been all along.

“That’s exactly what I was coming to do,” Gil told him.

“Hmph,” Velasquez grunted. “Do you have any idea how much pain your CSI was in? That bruise on his hip goes to the bone. The official report states he has bruised ribs, but the Doc told me it was just luck they weren’t cracked or broken. And this is the guy you sent to crawl around on the floor to gather evidence. He was hurting bad enough I’m pretty certain he was in tears, but he refused to quit until he did the job. One tough SOB you got there. Anyway, I insisted he wait for me to re-secure the scene before he attempted the stairs. He wasn’t very steady on his feet. I was just about at his side, and he’d turned to head downstairs, when that bad leg just gave out on him. He went ass over teakettle down the stairs. He didn’t stop until he hit the wall on the next landing. I was on the wire for an ambulance before he stopped moving.”

“What was the damage,” Gil asked quietly.

"Nothing official, but I’m willing to bet those bruised ribs are now broken. Mild concussion is likely upgraded to moderate or serious, if he doesn’t have a skull fracture. And the EMTs were concerned enough that they took him out of here in a cervical collar and a on a backboard.”

“Which hospital was he taken to,” Grissom asked, already reaching for his phone. “I need to let the team know.”

“Sunrise,” Velasquez said. “And Grissom, please don’t let me regret telling you that. This is the second time I’ve seen Nick in an ambulance in the last 24 hours; let’s make it the last time.”

* * *

By the time Catherine and the others arrived at the hospital, Grissom still hadn’t been in to see Nick. The doctors had him in the ICU, and no one had yet to bring any news regarding his condition.

“What happened,” Warrick demanded, storming into the waiting room.

Grissom didn’t bother prevaricating. “Due to the stress and physical demands from the investigation I required Nick to perform, his leg gave out on him as he was coming down the stairs. He fell, exacerbating his earlier injuries.” Here he paused before adding, “There is some concern about possible injuries to his neck and/or back.”

As the others were reacting with various levels of shock, a doctor approached. 

“Mr. Grissom? I’m Dr. White, Mr. Stokes’s attending. He has you listed as his medical proxy. Could we have a word, please?”

Grissom nodded and followed the doctor to a small consultation room.

“Mr. Grissom, I will be blunt,” Dr. White said without prevarication. “Mr. Stokes’s condition is serious. On top of his previous injuries, he sustained a second, more serious concussion. The fall not only caused his previously bruised ribs to break, it also caused additional damage to three additional ribs. His lungs, in one piece of fortunate news, wasn’t punctured, but did sustain some bruising. But our biggest concern is his back. At this time there is too much swelling to determine if, or how extensive, any damage might be, or even if there is any damage at. What we can tell you is, as of right now, when Mr. Stokes wakes up, he will experience some extent of paralysis.”

* * *

The next two days passed by in a sort of a haze for the team. The seriousness of the concussions was underscored by the fact that Nick just would not wake up. The doctors were discussing sending him back for further scans to check for any brain damage they had missed the first time, when Nick finally made his return to consciousness. 

Even with Nick waking up, it took several more days before he was actually aware, and a few more past that before he the pain subsided enough for him to communicate more than just the basics. It was a full week past his fall that he and Grissom were finally able to talk. And as luck would have it, Grissom’s visit came immediately following the doctor’s informing Nick about his potential back injury. To say the younger man was not in a pleasant frame of mind was putting it mildly.

“What do you want,” Nick said, scowling at his boss.

“I came by to see how you’re doing,” Grissom said, hating how inane it sounded.

Nick’s scowl got darker, and he let out a string of curses he usually only reserved for the really, really bad cases. Grissom just sat there and let him vent.

“Are you finished,” he asked when it seemed Nick was running out of steam.

“You know, Grissom, I’m not really in the mood to be patronized today,” Nick growled. “So why don’t you deliver your lecture or whatever censure actually brought you here, and let me get on with this crappy day.”

Gil was honestly shocked. “You think I’m here to reprimand you?”

“I screwed up and compromised the crime scene. And I have no idea where the evidence I collected ended up, so add lost evidence to my list of sins. Why else would you be here in the middle of a case?”

Grissom hadn’t thought he could feel worse than he had when hearing about Nick’s accident at the crime scene, but he’d been wrong.

“Nick, I’m not here to criticize or scold you. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“I don’t see how it wasn’t.” Nick’s Texas accent was getting stronger, a sure indication of his emotional state. “I was supposed to do my job, and I only made more work for everyone. I mean, it’s not like someone pushed me down the stairs and made off with the evidence.”

“Nick, why were you at the crime scene,” Grissom asked before Nick could castigate himself any further.

“To collect the evidence from the floorboards,” Nick replied immediately.

“That was the job you were sent to do,” Grissom agreed, “but why were _you_ at the crime scene?”

“Because you sent me,” Nick said, not sure where his boss was going with this.

“And why did you fall down the stairs,” Grissom pushed.

“Because my fool leg gave out on me, and I wasn’t fast enough to catch myself. Grissom, where are you going with this? I already know how I messed up.”

“I’m not doing this very well,” Grissom muttered. “Nick, the point I was trying, and failing miserably to make, is that what happened at that crime scene wasn’t your fault; it was mine. _I’m_ the one who failed to hear you out about your late arrival, so I had no idea about your injuries. _I’m_ the one who kept you on your feet all day going up and down those stairs collecting evidence, and who refused to let you teammates, who were in the know, help you out. And _I_ was the one who sent you to do a job that aggravated your existing injuries to the point that it overtaxed them, and caused you fall down those stairs.”

“I should have said something,” Nick pressed, still determined to make his boss see this was somehow his fault. “Told you I was hurt.”

“Nick, I’m pretty sure you tried,” Grissom said. “And I believe my response was to threaten you with insubordination if I heard another word. Do I appreciate you coming to work compromised? No. But given the circumstances, and your concussion, I think you were only trying to inform me the only way you could think of. Did you know Officer Velasquez even tried to send me word through dispatch about your accident? Only I had my head too far up my rectum, and refused to take the message since it didn’t pertain to the immediate situation. Nick, this whole thing was my fault. And since I haven’t said it, yet: I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I caused all this.”

“Did you know I’m paralyzed? I can’t feel anything below my waist,” Nick suddenly blurted, and Grissom realized his earlier bluster had been merely a cover for the fear he was showing now.

“I know your back took a lot of abuse,” he acknowledged. “There’s a very good chance, once the swelling goes down you’ll get the feeling back.”

“But what if it doesn’t? What will I do?”

Gil could hear the real question Nick was asking. What would _Grissom_ do? Would he once again abandon his teammate when he was hurt? Kick him when he was down? Grissom was determined not to mess up this time.

“Nick, if the paralysis _is_ permanent, which I truly don’t think it will be, you’re not going anywhere. Even if you can’t walk, that doesn’t impair your ability to think or to reason. Will accommodations have to be made? Certainly. And there might some things you physically can’t do. But you are a member of this team, and until or unless you are ready to leave, you will have a place with us, regardless.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, you can decide what happens next. I think a series of stories with a wheelchair-bound Nick would be really interesting, but I don't feel qualified to write them. Anyone who wants to take that on, feel free.  
> I may do a follow up to this from Nick's POV, if people enjoy this one.


End file.
